Meowth Alone
by ThereAreNoTurkeys
Summary: Jessie, James, and Meowth find the dreaded Missingno and find themselves lost in a different realm. Terrible, terrible things happen, including grimdark, gore, character death, probably some sexual stuff, and just general nastiness, period. This is Meowth's journal of his ordeal. Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

Entry one

I'm hungry, cold, scared, lost, and overall: gone. Maybe forever. I've counted to 10,000 so far and Jessie and James are still missing. There isn't so much as a plant out here in this weird desert.

I would say the date and time, but the Sun doesn't move. It's not a very powerful Sun either, about half the size as the one I know the best. Just passive-aggressively "bright" enough to make the sky the right frequency of pea soup green that makes you prefer to look at the jagged black and gray sand and pebbles on the ground.

My back paws are starting to bleed. The hills feel like sidewalks coated with broken bottles. I've been running for what must have been hours trying to find the door we came in, and the ground feels like fire. Ever since I dropped from the sky, I've picked the random specks of crystal and ash or whatever this boring grit is out of my face. There's still some left in. I figured it gives me the rugged luck I've lacked of late.

It feels horrible making a sly comment like that when you look up from your your ten dollar journal you shoplifted from the Cinnabar Island pokemart, and all you can see is black mounds of dust, green sky, and an occasional single black cloud, drifting by like a dead fish in a current. The clouds actually make noise, a sort of thumping noise against the breeze. That's how quiet it is. I'd cut my arms off if it'd make someone show up and laugh.

The air is so cold, and all I can do to abate it is roll down a jagged mound of solid crystal and pebble, and sit there and bleed, just to distract myself. It's only helped my headache.

For those who might find this, if you speak English at all, my name is Meowth. My trainers Jessie and James were trying to steal an unimportant guy's Pikachu on Cinnabar Island while the guy was on the coast on his Lapras. We almost had the electric rat, when out of the water comes this… geometric… two-dimensional… I don't even _know_ really…

The twerp's (and I would kill to find something to call a twerp here) pokedex choked out in a little robot voice that it was a Missingno, then it told him to not stare at it, just run. He did, make no mistake. Not ones to follow the rules, Jessie, James and I stared at it. Then we were sucked into the Missingno like it was some kind of door. Then I fell out of the other side of the door, in the sky of this desert, then on the ground. I couldn't find my trainers, they must be somewhere else here. "Blasting off again," as it were. God, I hate that we do that so much.

Except— this time, I think I won't come back and figure out a new plan. I mean, I hate to be so dramatic, really.

But the truth is I am cold, and the quiet around me is so dense, so forceful, this rocky desert is yelling for me to shut up and stop living. It must have been an hour and already I can safely assume that there isn't another person or Pokemon around for miles.

Check that… something's talking to me. Something loud and silent at the same time. A voice like every rock here, every molecule of air, had a mouth. It's telling me to put down the pen. I'll record what it says afterwards.


	2. Chapter 2

Entry 2

Thank God I found this journal. I just found it after I lost it. I'll never find my left paw, though. But that's the least of my troubles. My body has never been this violated. At least I can still write. Remember what I said about blood making for ink? Apparently the pebbles work too. I just have to write bigger.

I won't speak too soon when I say this is the greatest physical pain I will ever feel. I just want to peel all the flesh off the bones of my right arm and throw it somewhere, and then tear out a bone and hit something with it until I'm not just generally angry at everything anymore, for putting me in this situation.

Pokemon battles hurt but they don't injure me like this. My body is a thing that this entire realm wants to play with. But apparently, there's no cause for alarm about death. I'll get to why in a second.

If I bleed some more out my left wrist, it'll make for ink. This is good, my pen is running out.

The voice that was echoing across the flat hills earlier, a long time earlier, was deeper than deep. It was shockwave after shockwave of verbal hate before I could even hear what it was saying. It seemed to come out of one hill at first, than another the next. But nobody visible was speaking.

"Drop the pen," it said.

I was still writing.

"Drop the pen, Meowth, nobody cares."

So I wrote the last few bits and looked up. There was nothing to look up to but mound after mound of rocks.

"Who are you?" I said.

"I am the Missing."

I got up on two legs and stomped. My raw skin under my paw stung as I did. "Well, I happen to be 'missing' my two best friends, and you're going to tell me where they are or I'll scratch you to kingdom come!"

A gust of wind brushed against me. Wind that carried little rocks in just the right places to scrape at my face. I closed my eyes and I could feel my eyelids split just the tiniest bit here and there. I winced.

"It is creatures like you that I hate the most," said the Missing. "Invalids who scream and whimper their jokes until someone laughs, as a way to validate themselves. Do you know what laughter is? Temporary insanity. The acknowledgement of something being purely wrong with the world. The ignorance of impending pain, in favor of error."

As it spoke while my eyes were closed, I felt like I was in a coffin. Buried alive. I had to open my eyes again to verify that I wasn't in some horrible torture like that, and I wasn't— but a few pebbles scraped the veins of my eye and popped a blood vessel. I tried to speak up to get it to stop, but—

"Meowth. You are everything that is wrong everything. Mischief to mask your weakness. Nothing without your audience."

"Can you stop?" my voice managed to creak it out. "I just want to go back to my world and sleep. This is toxic."

"Toxic?"

I darted my gaze around for something to glare at. "Everything about this place is terrible! The gren sky, the nasty spikey ground, I want James and Jessie, and I want a couch to sit on! It's not that complicated."

"Your anger is baseless. You can't follow up on your threats. It was you and your friends who willingly came through my portal."

There was nothing for me to say at that point, after the Missing even suggested that I did this to myself.

"And now," it continued, "all three of you will suffer as I have suffered. The man brutalized, the woman humiliated— you, alone forever. Goodbye, Meowth."

I sat there for a while in the sharp pebbles. The wind died down. The Missing is going to do horrible things to Jessie and James.

There was a way out, and as soon as I took the first step forward, I knew it wasn't the way out I wanted.

With the journal clutched to my chest I ran. I knew there had to be a canyon somewhere around here. That usually happens with deserts. I had to throw myself off. Even if I went to Hell it would be better than this. I would have at least had a torturer or someone like that to make small talk with.

I ran as fast as I could until I wasted my last strength, then I sat in the rocks and waited until I could regain it. Then I ran some more. Hours must have passed. I'd never been more tired because I knew there was no time to sleep.

When my legs shook, my brain spun in its skull, my front paws reached around for anything and everything, I left a patch of blood with every footstep, I had been finally spent. I'd been going in one direction for about two days. I wanted food but there wasn't an organic thing around here for miles. I sucked my own tongue for any hint of wetness and found none. The sun glared down at me, and it was so cold.

I looked to my left as I lay wheezing on top of a dune of pebbles, and—

A crack in the ground. One that went for miles, hundreds of feet wide. The edge was on the other side of my dune, just before me.

I glanced down the canyon, and I might as well had been at the top of the Swiss Alps. It went down, dark, for miles, until there was the faintest glint of a dried stream that caught the reflection of the dying sun.

I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live either. I tipped my head over the edge on the slope of the dune. My will to see Jessie and James again had a head-on collision with the drive to get out of this terrible desert at all costs.

Then I lost my footing.

Pebbles slipped out from under me on the steep incline. The journal flew from my paws and dove down the canyon. I fell and lacerated the skin of my forepaws on the rocks as I clawed to stand up. I knew I had to live. But the emptiness and gravity was dragging me into the void. I slid and slid, beyond my control, until there was no ground below me.

Only silence. I didn't even scream. I just floated for a while in midair and thought about God and if he or she was a nice

I sensed the coming ground. Without knowing any better I extended my left paw to shield myself.

The first loud noise I'd heard for days was the sound of my body slamming face-first against a ledge of the cliff. I had disintegrated into a bloody mess of red pudding.

This would have been a relief, had I not woken up the next nanosecond as a semi-complete body that had been pieced together in a cruel joke from the Missing. My bones were mismatched and it scraped me and stung me from the inside. I could feel grains of skull dust like snow on my brain. I was in such pain that I had to change my position, and when I was on my back, my one functioning eye saw a stick of a broken rib protruding from my chest. I examined it with the stump of my left paw— but that was beyond repair.

I was immortal. Broken, rearranged, and made of death, but immortal.

I gazed up at the black walls that entombed me in this canyon. The tiny sun still stared down at me, waiting for my next move.

I knew then I had to find my journal. The Missing could destroy my body, but before he'd destroy me completely, he'd have to make me give up my search for my two best friends. That can never be taken away from me. I think.


	3. Chapter 3

Entry 3

I don't know how long it's been, honestly. I haven't had the drive to write in this journal since I wrote last. If my bones, which I can feel festering with eternal decay on my broken immortal body, are any indication, then it's been five years. But they've always this way in this goddamn desert. I'm a walking corpse. The rib still sticks out of my chest, but I've worn it down from my journeys. My hair is long and matted now, and my head coin has bent and dug into my skull.

After the canyon incident, I tried to bash my head repeatedly on the canyon wall. I figured at least then I would damage my brain and lack a firm grasp on the situation. But after about the tenth slam of my forehead on the solid rock, I was too delirious to continue, and soon the regeneration took effect. The Missing wanted me to suffer, and it was working.

I fell backwards on the ground and wallowed in the muddy half-gelatinous gray water. It smelled like nine year old sewage and I couldn't get myself to drink it, even after I made myself try to dash my brains out.

Something patted my broken skull from the left side. I leaped in shock, but it was only this journal, floating down on the current. That's when I wrote my previous entry.

To kill myself was no longer an option, and frankly, I was okay with this. My two trainers and I had muddled ourselves out of… not worse by any stretch, but similar situations.

The truth is, I've always thought that if I lost touch of the things I held the dearest to myself, a higher power, one that lived in my mind and heart, would point the way back home. I'm not saying I'd be miracuously saved, though I'm not going to deny that oppportunity if it comes. I'm saying that if that doesn't happen, then I'll steal my family back myself.

I have years upon years of trying to steal that twerp's Pikachu on my side, and all the Missing had was rocks.

Lots of rocks.

More rocks than I feel comfortable mentioning.

As in, I've never walked quite so far in my life. The canyon ended a long while back in a steep dropoff into a rocky flat plain that stretched out for miles upon miles. In the horizon I could only faintly see one mountain. I saw the first grass I've seen in this place and I cried. It was only a few greenish-black ragged weeds jutting out of the bottom of a periodic boulder, but to see someothing organic for a change was just such a reilef. But thatw as short-lived. The plain was full of them, and I'm not entirely sure how long I've been wakling in the plain with this bone-dry stomach, this one crusty eye, the other eye that I lost, this one shriveled paw, the other paw that I lost, and pain with every limping step. My voice is gritty, like a blues singer. I test it every now and then and blood crawls down my chin from the effort.

The prospect of being caught by Officer Jenny and/or thrown into a lake and humiliated would have made me smile at this point. I haven't smiled in weeks. I don't know if I still can without breaking a rearranged jawbone.

You'd think he would have made me go insane from the solitude. This is looking very likely. I do know that Jessie and James are somewhere imprisoned in this big, scary world. They could be buried miles and miles underground for all I know.

But for a moment, towards the edge of a lake of the canyon sludge on the shore of which I'd been plodding along like a zombie with shaking feet - there was a silhouette from behind a boulder.

A pokemon. A bird pokemon, in fact. I'd never seen this kind of pokemon before, but we can recognize one of us from miles away. At least, I can.

"Hey!" I whimpered. I wanted it to be a shout, but I coughed up rotting phlegm instead. The pokemon didn't look up.

It was the lone hidden rainbow in this place to not be alone again, if only for a fleeting moment.

So I ran up to it. It took five minutes of sprinting, my bones rattling and scraping against each other like nails on a cheese grater with every step. And when I was close, it wasn't anything like I'd seen in the Kanto region or anywhere else.

It had face of a Murkrow - rather, a giant Murkrow's white skull, with fangs. Its eyes were empty sockets that took the shape of the portal that took me here - three-fourths of a rectangle - and I shuddered at the sight of that horrible shape. The rest of its body was that of a skin-and-bones monkey pokemon of some kind, and its hands and feet were metal hooks. Essentially, a flying-type Marowak from hell.

When I stood next to it, it didn't notice me, it just licked from the pungent, steaming silver sludge with its pink lizard tongue as it bent down on all fours. It was at least seven times my height. Tall, even for a human.

"Hey," I said again. "I'm… I'm stuck here, and I really need your help."

It didn't look up. I was not only desperate at this point, I was annoyed. It felt a little like home to be annoyed again, but not quite.

I stared at it. Eventually, I reached out my one paw and touched it on the shoulder.

It let out an ear-splitting shriek as it fell over. The skin I touched crumbled into ash instantly like overcooked bacon. Its arm fell off and it stood up on two feet.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean it."

It wobbled and squealed like it was a Pikachu being dissected alive. As a pokemon, I knew what it was saying. Not in terms of actual words - but the subtext of this foreign shrill yelling was how much it hated me for existing, even if I hadn't cut off its arm by mistake.

Then it pounced on me. It held my paw to the side and spread me out like a preserved butterfly on a nail, screaming in my face the whole time. There was nothing but pure evil in this creature. I didn't even know that it was possible for any pokemon to be evil - except this seemed to be all that the bird creature was capable of.

I stared at its tongue as it vibrated over my face with every shriek. Its skin rippled, but it was stronger now. Contact with my flesh couldn't kill the bird pokemon when it was in a state like this.

I was so scared but I didn't even know what I was scared about. More pain? I was used to it by now.

There was a flash of light, and its eyes grew brighter and brighter. Then, it started to fade away. The ground I lay on became sharper and sharper. Familiar, almost.

Too familiar.

It continued until the screaming died and I only stared up at the tiny sun.

I stood up—

And I screamed. For the first time in what must be years, I screamed and bawled like a baby in frustrated agony. This was the original field I had been dropped in.

As I fell to my knees and slammed the ground with my one paw in hate and shame, I could barely hear the Missing's voice over my own noises:

"Do _not_ try that again, Meowth."

I'll try again, all right.


End file.
